


counting jinhwan.

by sophihilism



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Binhwan - Freeform, Drabble, Fluff, Lowercase, M/M, bjin - Freeform, just hanbin bein a romantic and jinhwan being sleepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophihilism/pseuds/sophihilism
Summary: it's 6:34am and hanbin is counting (jinhwan).





	counting jinhwan.

**Author's Note:**

> it's 3am here in korea and i just vomited out a binhwan drabble instead of studying for finals like i should be.  
> i miss binhwan.  
> anyway, here it is.

it’s 6:34 and hanbin is counting. 

amongst the pages of his to-do lists tucked away in the tattered anecdotes of his precious, poor, abused notebook, counting doesn’t usually appear. not to mention math was never his favourite subject (he was never good at it, but who needs school anyway?), and not to mention it was 6AM in the morning, and -6 degrees or less. 

but hanbin counts… one… two… three… 

he’s mapping copper inclines like he’s on an expedition, seeking to conquer each stretch of skin. his thin, wisping fingers climb the slope of a thigh, over the peak of a hip bone, amongst the sandy jeju-kissed dunes of a ribcage… one, two, three, four bones, another tattoo, a phoenix. he tallies them, like a prisoner counting days, days that he lingers onto like they’re his last breath. the last breath of an explorer, now wandering over the cascade of a shoulder, abseiling over brush-stroked words, in the lap of god....

the shoulder moves as jinhwan breathes. in for two… out for two…. 

hanbin is still dressed in what he wore when he came from the studio. his black hoodie clings to his skeletal frame and stinks of cigarette smoke, staining the threads from not his doing, but his colleagues and their bad habits. jinhwan has nagged him about it before. he hates the smell of smoke. 

so he strips down before he comes into the elder’s double bed, knowing it will save them an argument at a time where the sun is higher in the sky. for now, it only slightly says its morning greeting, a slither of gold that tracks down across where jinhwan’s wrist is tucked under his chin. he’s fallen asleep without clothes on, but the heater thrums somewhere nearby, so he’s comfortably curled against his stomach. his eyelashes fan across his cheek like lace, and hanbin counts their short wings as well. five… six…. seven….

he also counted the hours it had been since they were together like this. really together. not sharing looks between practice takes or bumping chopsticks between a company meal. but when hanbin wasn’t in the studio, and jinhwan wasn’t at vocal practice, and hanbin wasn’t with his friends, and jinhwan wasn’t mad at him for being away so much. 

evenso, jinhwan knows there’s no other place hanbin would rather be than right here. 

the sun is definitely rising by the time hanbin shifts closer on the bed, its warmth bleeding into the red wine curtains and dyeing the room in a halcyon glow. jinhwan too, with summer-soaked skin, paled thanks to the darker winter months. hanbin craves for summer days, when the sun soaks on his cheeks, darkens his mole and reflects off his smile. 

he craves for affection, as he does most of the time, and settles down beside the other’s shrunken frame with precision that makes him feel awkward. bones stick in the wrong place, bones that shift around until he’s facing his slumbersome bed partner, bones that stop when he realises kim jinhwan has his eyes open. 

hanbin stops breathing, too, waiting for the other to scold him, for one… two…. three…. 

“... morning, hanbinah.”

five syllables and two seconds later and hanbin breathes out, then in, and continues where he left off. this time, he’s dressed in a small, dimple-drunk smile as he brings arms around the other and tucks himself deep into the warmth he’s nestled into the bed. he tucks his face into his hair too, kisses it, and holds him close in the dip of his chest. 

jinhwan unwinds like a stretching cat, and then reshapes to fit where the other ends, moulding together in perfect unison. hanbin starts counting again, this time, sheep. but he barely makes it close to sleep when he hears a piercing voice say.

“you smell like smoke, it’s disgusting.”

“... ah seriously, it’s not me.”

“don’t talk back to me at 6AM.”

“actually, it’s 6:45.”

“you counted?”

“... yeah, i did. goodnight, hyung.”


End file.
